


Priority examination

by yue_ix



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, F/M, Fanfiction, Jackson Whittemore Is A Dick, Medical Examination, Medical Kink, Naked Male Clothed Female, Older Woman/Younger Man, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sub Jackson Whittemore, top Melissa McCall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 23:56:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yue_ix/pseuds/yue_ix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Jackson of yesterday would have thought it humiliating, but as it's happening Jackson can only whine for more. The thing is, Scott - <i>Scott McCall</i>, loser extraordinaire from high school - Scott's <i>mom</i> is finger-banging Jackson's ass in a hospital room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Priority examination

**Author's Note:**

> **Content notes:** unnegotiated sexual acts between an adult and younger man (Jackson's age is never specified), fake medical facts  & practices, wild abuse of position used as excuse to make Jackson get a rectal examination and related disregard of consent, Jackson being a little shit, some light humiliation play (situational, private). No mention of werewolves.
> 
> This is a [Mating Games](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Mating_Games_Challenges) entry reworked; it has doubled in length and lost in plot. :D Big thanks to the wonderful Briar for betaing this. <33

The Jackson of yesterday would have thought it humiliating, but as it's happening Jackson can only whine for more. The thing is, Scott - _Scott McCall_ , loser extraordinaire from high school - Scott's _mom_ is finger-banging Jackson's ass.

It really started the previous night, as Jackson gets just a little too drunk with his uni buddies, which predictably leads to him being punched in the stomach by jealous assholes. In his hungover state this morning Jackson unfortunately has mostly forgotten about that because of a massive headache, so when his pee comes out a little too orange for his liking and smelling weird, he freaks the fuck out. With his adoptive parents in earshot. Mortified, Jackson's unable to reassure them that he probably does _not_ have prostate cancer because the concerned yelling hurts his eyeballs. Thus, here he is today, with his father yelling at the local hospital's staff and a very unimpressed nurse looking at them with thinning patience.

“Look, I don't care. This is my son, and his private clinic is closed today, which is the only reason we're here. I want him examined. Right. Now.”

The nurse opens her mouth, likely to argue for the third time that the ER is swamped enough, then she looks Jackson over and stops with recognition. A slow, sweet, utterly evil smile spreads across her face. She picks his file. “You know what? Fine. I'll even do it myself, right now. Jackson? Come with me.”

Shit is up. After a brief and painful second of reflection, Jackson concludes he needs to go along; losing face in front of his family is way less acceptable than simply making this woman waste some of her time. She'll understand once he explains it to her.

He follows her into a secluded room, breathing a sigh of relief at being away from his overbearing guardians when she closes the door behind them. In a desire to get this over with quickly, Jackson blurts out, “Truthfully, I just got drunk. But I didn't want to tell them. Because... because.” He doesn't need to explain himself.

“Oh, I know,” the nurse says, putting on gloves and opening drawers. “I can recognize signs of an hungover teen who did something stupid. It usually precedes me craving a drink of my own.”

“Huhuh. Sure. Then just like, write, whatever, “perfect stud health” on the sheet, and I'll be fine.”

“Yeah, no.” The nurse turns to him with a perfectly professional face. “Hello, my name is Melissa McCall. I'm here to give you a rectal examination to ascertain you don't have prostate cancer. Or you can get out there right now and explain everything to your dad.”

She's pointing at the door with a tube of lubricant as she says that last part. The glint in her eyes tells Jackson she's utterly serious, and how much she plans on enjoying this if he stays.

“Fuck,” Jackson says, and reaches for his belt.

A few minutes later, Jackson is bent face first into crisp white examination bench paper. He's naked from the waist down and a slim finger is pressing against his rim. He's so tense, the tip can barely get in even with so much lube that some is slowly sliding down his balls, catching on hair.

Ms. McCall is grinning around a few bad jokes. Despite the context, she's trying to make Jackson relax and is good at it. The problem is how it also reminds him that she's _Scott's mom_. Jackson's face is burning. He hides it in his arms, making his whole body shift for balance. Apparently that distracts him just enough to relax some part of him, because the finger slides the rest of the way in smoothly.

Jackson locks up on it, tries to push the intrusion out. This only makes his body clench around the widest part of her finger. She slips it out slowly, and he breathes out in relief. He jerks forward when she re-enters him with two fingers, a sure and steady push in until her knuckles are pressing against the stretch of skin over his balls. His perineum, or taint, she calls it, as she narrates what she's doing and touches it with her other hand. He desperately wants not to think about any of this, so of course her fucking school trip to his ass makes him live every second in vivid detail.

Ms. McCall points out his two rings of muscles by retracting her fingers slightly to crook and press against each. The squelch of lubricant squeezed between his walls and her fingers is obscene. She traces his rim around and around her fingers, until he's so sensitive he feels his pulse beating around the minuscule folds of the latex gloves bunching at the base of her fingers.

He prickles with nerves, from the small of his back, down his wet crack, around her fingers, down the hang of his balls and up the hardening jut of his cock against the examination table. He's aware of straining in places he wasn't aware there were muscles. His previously parched throat is salivating so much he needs to swallow regularly. He even has an absurd new worry of being insufficiently perfect absolutely everywhere, because she's staring from very close up at places he never thought about grooming for review before.

The width of her fingers isn't bad so much as new and odd, though. Maybe this isn't so bad. He wills himself to regain control of the situation, to think of it just like a regular gym training. Under her directions, he shakes his shoulders, relaxes his posture, unclenches his ass a few times experimentally.

“Good. Focus on doing that, and let me do the rest,” she tells him, and she slowly pulls her fingers out before pushing them back in. A loud groan tears its way out of Jackson. Fuck, this feels weird. Rough noises escape him again as she pulls almost all the way out, then presses back in, and settles into a rhythm. Her other hand is warm where she holds his hip steady as she unmistakably starts fucking into him.

The movement rocks him into the table. His forearm brushes against the cold leather of the examination bench where the crinkly paper got pulled aside slightly. His balls slap lazily against the edge of the table, and the tip of his dick sticks to the papery cover. He subtly sets more and more weight on his tiptoes so as to raise his ass under the pull of her fingers, meeting her thrusts.

The thing is, he _feels_ her deep inside, undeniable and intimate. It's not the ache he expected to come with buttfucking the very few times he thought about it; it's an indescribable fullness that make him twitch and break into a cold sweat while his head is fever muted.

Ms. McCall continues talking to him, explaining what she's doing and where she's touching in a calm, expert voice, yet Jackson can hear the smile catching on the end of her sentences. Maybe it's the voice she uses with her son when punishing him. And oh, that's a thought. This will be the first and last part he'll tell people if this ever, ever, gets known: I had sex with a nurse, and she was someone's mom. She had talented hands. He won't need to say whose mom it was, how much he moaned into his fist, or that he was ready to come in five minutes flat.

Ms. McCall uses that moment to press down on his prostate with a pleased little “Aha!”. Jackson chokes through the sudden tide of pleasure, his whole body jerking into it.

Seemingly satisfied with the angle, she starts _punching_ her hand into that spot again, and Jackson can only hold on for the ride. His mouth's watering, his thighs are trembling, his vision is a blur. His back drips sweat, and his hands are clenched on the edges of the exam table. He's hard as a fucking rock.

Just as he thinks he might come soon, she stops, removes her fingers, and nudges him to turn around. Jackson does so with a pained whimper, and whines again when she says, “Alright, we're done here, Jackson. You can mess with your parents' time as much as you want, but, look...”

Ms. McCall's smile is wicked as she picks up something from her desk and taps a long, thin metal rod over the leaking head of his dick.

“This,” she confides, “is an urethral sound. If you ever disturb my shift for dumbass trivialities again, I will lube it up and slide it into your penis. Trust me, you _will_ experience a burning sensation. Are we clear?”

Jackson nods.

“Good. Now pull your pants up, and I'll go tell your parents you are perfectly healthy. You have exactly two minutes to come out of this office fully presentable and ready to tell them you were simply hungover, and that it won't ever happen again. After that, I'll send them to fetch you themselves. ”

Jackson nods again, and, for once, does exactly as he's told.


End file.
